


LOTR Double-Drabbles

by gardnerhill



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Double Drabble, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The double-drabbles I created for the now-ended LJ community <a href="http://toilanddrouble.livejournal.com/">Toil and Drouble</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to centenarian comedian George Burns and his Googie.

"The Red Book's so big!"

"Yes it is, my darling poppet. What would you like your old Gaffer to read to you tonight?"

"Tell about the Wizard and the funny Dwarves coming to tea!"

The old hobbit, a straw-haired girlchild perched on his knees, opened the big red leather-bound book to the title page. He brought two fingers to his lips and touched them to the page's centre.

"I want to kiss Frodo too!"

"Very well. Give Frodo of the Ring your kiss."

The girl loudly kissed her hand and tapped the page atop the name.

"There! He felt that all the way over in Valinor."

"Is Frodo happy there, Gaffer?"

"He is very happy there, love. It is a beautiful place, full of music and starlight. Frodo helped the Elves a long time ago, and he got very sick. So the Elves took him away with them to get well."

"Will Frodo come back when he's better?"

"No, lamb. People who go with the Elves don't return."

"Can I go there when I'm grown?"

"Perhaps you will. Shall we begin?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"All right. Ah, here we are. 'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...' "


	2. Fear and Loathing in Middle-Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Toil and Drouble's challenge to write a LOTR double-drabble in the style of another writer. I chose Hunter Thompson for this one.

We were just outside of Buckland on the edge of the Old Forest when the mushrooms kicked in. We stopped for a drink; I lit up and passed the Old Toby to Sam. We’d been on the Road for days, and we had another hundred miles or so to go before we’d be in Rivendell. “Think we should stop for the night?” I asked Frodo, and that’s when the goddamn tree attacked us, swooping down on us and yanking Pippin down with a yelp. Sam went into the water.

“Jesus!” Frodo shouted. “What the hell is going on?”

I nudged Frodo. “Do you see that?”

Frodo had a beatific stoned look on his face. “The Man with the blue hat and yellow boots dancing up and down and singing to the willow tree? Yeah, I see him too.”

The tree released Pippin and Sam and quit moving. The Man skipped over to us, singing. “Hey dol merry do, ring a dong dillo!” 

I handed him the pipe; he’d clearly been sampling Farmer Maggot’s finest too. 

He invited us to his place for the night, and we agreed. We all wanted to try this _goldberry_ he said he had back there.


	3. In Which Elrond Has A Counsil And A Fellowship Is Formed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another in the "Other Writer's Style" challenge - this one based on a.a. milne.

"The Ring must be Destroyed," said Elrond. "Frodo must go to Mordor."  
  
"Is Mordor far away?" asked Frodo.  
  
"Very far," said Gandalf. "It's farther than Africa, or the North Pole. It will take all day to get there."  
  
"Bother!" said Frodo.  
  
"I'll come with you, Frodo," said Gandalf fondly. "Silly old hobbit!"  
  
"If by my life or death I can protect you," said Aragorn.  
  
"That is to say..." said Aragorn. "Rather, if by looking very Fierce and Protective, I can help..."  
  
"What I mean to say is," said Aragorn, "that I am coming too. You have my Sword."  
  
"And my Bow," said Legolas.  
  
"And my Axe," said Gimli.  
  
"So, you are all going to Mordor," said Boromir. "No plan. No hope. As usual. And if I stay behind, in my Gloomy Spot, People Will Talk. I am coming too."  
  
Sam scampered up beside Frodo, and took his hand. "I'm going where Frodo goes," he said, and Frodo squeezed his hand gratefully.  
  
Merry bounced in. "You'll need a Brandybuck on this Expotition!"   
  
Aragorn got up and dusted himself off. "We do _not_ need someone who bounces," he said crossly.  
  
"I'm going too! I'm going too!" squeaked Pippin.  
  
"Pippin _dear_!" said Gandalf.


	4. Inside a Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The challenge was to incorporate a Beatles lyric in the story. I couldn't stop at one...

_There's a Shadow hanging over me._

You don't look different but you have changed.

_And now the time has come and so my love I must go._

My tears are falling like rain from the sky.

_Close your eyes and I'll kiss you._

Day after day alone on the hill.

_Wishing you weren't so far away._

I get by with a little help from my friends.

_Will I wait a lonely lifetime if you want me to - I will._

I want to hold your hand.

_Please don't be long, please don't you be very long._

Waiting for the tides of time.

_Will you still need me?_

It's been a long long long time.

_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise._

I'll follow the Sun.

_Sail the ship._

Sky of blue and Sea of green.

_You're coming home, you're coming home._

Like a homing bird I fly, as a bird on wings.

_Don't leave me waiting here._

Bright are the stars that shine.

_Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see._

When I look into your eyes, your love is there for me.  
 ****

**It feels so right now, feels so right,  
Hold me tight.**


	5. Title: To Elessar King of Gondor and Arnor, Greeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My entry for the Toil and Drouble prompt, "Letters."

19 August, Year 63 F.A.   
  
From Samwise Gardner, Councillor of the North  
to Elessar King of Gondor and Arnor, greeting.  
  
I have received your letter containing your and the Queen's condolences; it is a great comfort. Rose loved our visit in the City, and the memories of your many kindnesses to our family in that wonderful year sweetened her final days.  
  
I am as well as can be, for a hobbit of 102. Other Gardners tend my small patch of land; Frodo-lad makes an abler Mayor than his old Da, being brought up to that work, and the others have taken their hands and hearts to every farthing of the Shire. I'm proud to say none of them spurns honest work; Bilbo is as good a farmer as Merry is a solicitor or Goldie a Thainess.  
  
But I am not at peace. I now hear the Sea's call in my dreams. I will go West. I have one last promise to keep – one I made in Cirith Ungol. If it means I die alone in an empty harbour, so be it; I will die as close to him as I may go. The Red Book is Elanor's.  
  
Farewell, Strider.  
  
Sam


	6. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Toil and Drouble's "Spring" challenge.

  
Buttercups an' _elanor_ , daffydowndillies, mustard, roses – yeller ones, a'course – grow or get grown for late March. (There's more'n one Hobbit got a wee glass shed anigh his plot in copy o' the Hill-Gardners' famous hot-house – a gift of the King, they say. Grow oranges and lemons, strawberries, waxflowers – and fine Ringday blossoms.)   
  
Day begins with us all in our best, at a great noon feast headed by the Mayor hisself. Roast lamb, greens, raisin pasties – but we start with stale winterbread and warm water, always. Oh, the children make faces, but they don't get no Ringday sweeties without choking down their one bite from that nasty dry biscuit – makes 'em love the Spring all the more, as we say.  
  
The lasses a-courtin' plait their flower-crowns and the children play Topple the Tower or Nine-Return under the _mallorn_. A good time for ale and talk of planting.  
  
Then the evening bonfire. And the dance! Such a sight, those lasses duckin' and weavin', laughing, with those bright crowns on their heads! And their sweethearts dancing close behind, trying to snatch off their girls' crowns and throw them yeller circles in the fire – shows they're betrothed, you see.  
  
It's always been this way.


	7. Eagle Scout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Toil and Drouble's "Animals" prompt.

"Third time pays for all!" he says.

Insufferable Wizard! Does he think I cannot count? I have four talons on each foot, and any Eagle who can’t count to four is a true bird-brain.

"Gwaihir, save me and my party from being burned by Goblins atop these pine trees."

"Gwaihir, rescue me from the top of Orthanc and bring me to Rivendell."

"Gwaihir, pull my naked body off the Winding Stair and bring me to Lothlorien."

Three times!

Landroval and I came flapping back from fighting Orcs by the footful in the Elf woods, and we set upon those foul flying beasts at the Black Gate without a rest, nor a bite to eat, amid the reek of the poison fumes.

Yet no sooner have we driven off the Enemy, massed against us in impossible number, than Gandalf speaks again.

Now he wishes me to fly to the dying Mountain to find two Hobbits whilst being assailed by fireballs and more deadly reek. The fourth time he has requested aid!

Yet gladly will my brother and I go on this mission. As I recall, Hobbits are smaller than Dwarves, but plump and unprotected by indigestible armour. We are very hungry.


	8. Delivery

_Too old, we're too old for this – should never have – !_

Sam's self-chastisement was cut short by another cry from the body in his arms. His hand was squeezed fit to break bones, and little he cared. "Lean into me, love," he whispered, kissing the ear and stroking back the greying hair. "So strong, so brave – you've done this before, you know the way –"

"Last… one… Sam…" Between gasps. "Last one… and we're done…"

"Done, done forever, love, never again this pain—"

"I see it," the healer said in a low voice. Flashing instruments went back into the wet gap. "You must be very, very still now. It will be close."

_How can he see aught with all that blood?_

The body went rigid. Sam tightened his grip to immobilize.

_If it's death oh make it quick –_

Then two cries rent the room. Cries of triumph.

Elrond straightened. He dropped the last, tiny, foul speck of the Morgul blade into the bowl held by his wife. "Done!"

Frodo's head dropped on Sam's shoulder as his incision was bandaged; pain and peace filled his eyes. "At last," he whispered as Sam kissed him over and over, weeping. "I'm free."


	9. Cave Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Toil and Drouble's "Orcs, Trolls and Wights" prompt.

I like to dig. I eat what I find. I happy.  
  
I digged too high up. They were all over like bugs, They got me. They put chains on me, beat me with more chains. Their eyes hurt, shiny like the bad bright Eyes in the _up_. They make my back all lumpy from beating.  
  
They push and yell and poke me; They have sharp things that hurt. I go where They say, I hurt the ones They say, then They let me eat. They not let me dig. I sad.  
  
Lots of little hairy ones, I eated lots, left the others. They killed lots too. All quiet for long long time.   
  
Bad light, loud new voices. New ones smell like _up_ , like the bright Eyes and no digging. They fight hard.   
  
Littlest one has something _nice. Nice_ thing says if I pick It up, chains go away, I run away, can dig all I want forever. Get the _nice_ thing.   
  
I stop the littlest one. Others shriek, jump on me. Leave me alone! Just want to go away, go down, go dig! Pretty _nice_ thing say so!  
  
Sharp thing. So sharp. Can’t breathe. Why?   
  
Just want to go home –


	10. Some Day We'll Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Toil and Drouble's "Orcs, Trolls and Wights" prompt.

Pippin stood beside Merry, unable to move or think. He didn't dare take Merry's hand.  
  
A wall of cruelty and pain surrounded them; knotted limbs clad in foul-looking armour. Tiny swinish red eyes, black gaping mouths, snaggled teeth.   
  
"Wot about their legs?" one Orc whined in the front, eyes hungry. "They don't need those."  
  
Merry said nothing.   
  
For the first time in his young life, Peregrin Took had nothing between himself and the horrors of the world of the East. There was no Gandalf any more. Boromir – but no, don't think on that last look. Not even Strider stood between them and the foe now.  
  
 _I'll never come of age. I'll never see Mum or Da again. I'll never be Thain, or have children of my own._  
  
He'd never been so frightened in his life.  
  
***  
  
Wide eyes, open gap-toothed mouths.  
  
The Thain lowered his voice, hunched his shoulders. "And then an Orc said, 'Wot about their legs? They don't need those.'"  
  
Faramir, Goldy and Frodo shrieked with laughter, falling over. Little Boro Brandybuck giggled on his father's lap.  
  
But Elanor stared, and hugged him. "Oh, Uncle Pip, you must have been so frightened!"  
  
Pippin kissed her, and took Merry's hand.


	11. The Dead Paragon Sketch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Toil and Drouble's "Monty Python and/or Goon Show" prompt.

Aragorn strode into the Great Hall of Minas Tirith, smoking with anger. "Hello! I wish to complain about this Man you sent to Rivendell!"  
  
Denethor beamed. "Oh yes, the Gondorian Steward! Very popular, good with a sword! What's wrong with him?"  
  
"I'll tell you what's wrong with him, mate." Aragorn dropped the arrow-riddled corpse before the Steward's Seat. "He's dead, that's what's wrong with him."  
  
Denethor stared. "Nah, he's _stunned_. Gondorian Stewards stun easily. Lovely armour."  
  
"The armour don't enter into it! He's bleeding demised!"  
  
"Nah, he's pining for the White Tower."  
  
"He's full of Orc arrows!"  
  
"Well, Gondorian Stewards _prefer_ being full of Orc arrows!"  
  
Aragorn shouted, "Listen, mate! This Man is _no more_. He is _deceased_! He has _ceased to be_! If we hadn't popped him into a boat and sent him down river, he'd be _pushing up the_ _simbelmynë_! He's _sailed into the West_ , _taken the Gift of Iluvatar_ and now _lies in Mandos' Halls of Bleeding Waiting!_ This! Is an _Ex-Steward_!"  
  
Silence. "Right, then, I'd best get you another one shall I?" Denethor beckoned to Faramir.  
  
Arargorn rolled his eyes. "You have to set people on fire and throw them off cliffs to get anything done around here."


	12. The French Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another entry for Toil and Drouble's "Monty Python" prompt.

"Yoo hoo! What do you sink you're doing, you stupid Eenglish hobbits you?"  
  
Frodo glared up at the Orc atop Minas Morgul and tightened his grip on Sting. "I have come upon a quest! My faithful servant Samwise and I are here to destroy the One Ring of Power!"  
  
"Zee One Ring, you say?"   
  
"Yes! The One Ring of your lord and master, Sauron!"  
  
The Orc vanished from sight, and a stream of Black Speech (or French) came down upon the waiting hobbits. Sam nervously tightened his grip on the coconut shells.   
  
The Orc returned. "Well, I'll tell him but I don't think he'll be very keen. He's already got one you see."  
  
Frodo blinked. "Already … got one?"  
  
"Oh yes, and it's very nice."  
  
"He's already got one?" Sam said.  
  
("I told zem we already got one," the Orc whispered, and the other Orcs giggled.)  
  
"Will he not come out and face me?" Frodo shouted.  
  
"No! Now go away before we mock your hobbit-sized dingle-dangles already!"  
  
"Enough!" Frodo glared. "The Men of Gondor have assailed you, and now we—"  
  
With a loud springing sound, Captain Faramir flew over the parapet, still astride his horse.  
  
"RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!"


	13. Retirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a 6-week leave of absence I took some years ago. Some of us are not genetically programmed to be long idle.

It was clear that Sam was unhappy. He was attentive and affectionate as always, but he stared out windows and drummed his fingers.   
  
"There's nowt to _do_ here!" he burst out one day, then ducked his head and blushed. "If that ain't the ungratefullest..."  
  
But Frodo kissed Sam, relieved. "It's all right, Sam. Remember what Bilbo wrote about The Last Homely House? The right sort of house, whether you wanted to rest, or sing, or read..."  
  
"Or work," Sam finished, and the word was a blessing on his lips. "Frodo, I've put my hand to everything needed doing for near a hundred years, and sitting about doing nothing ain't any sort of bliss for me, if you follow. In this weather, gardening ain't even work."  
  
"We'll go to Avallone tomorrow, Sam. Elrond and Glorfindel, for two, would welcome your cooking skills in their households in a breath. Just let them know you're there to _work_ , or a dozen Elves will beg for the honour of serving one of the Ringbearers." Frodo rolled his eyes.  
  
"But you and Mr. Bilbo--"  
  
"Will bide fine here. I'll be happy to see you on your days off."  
  
Sam kissed Frodo. "Thank you, me dear."


	14. Waiting Area

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soldier's life is hurry-up-and-wait. So is his death.

"Ha!" Merry made one last move with his counter.   
  
Boromir shook his head ruefully and conceded. "I do not think I shall win a single game before your kinsman joins us."  
  
"Not if Pippin lived a hundred more years -- even Frodo lost to me all the time."  
  
"Frodo." Boromir lowered his gaze.  
  
Merry met his eyes as he reset the stone and stick counters in the board drawn in the dust of the Road. "Your Ring-lust and your attack spurred Frodo to go to Mordor alone, when nothing else would. You too have your share in the destruction of that foul thing, son of Gondor."  
  
Boromir nodded and smiled a little. "I am pleased, at least, that my sword lessons brought aid to Minas Tirith and Rohan at their time of greatest need."  
  
"I'm also pleased that your name fits a hobbit very well. Boro Brandybuck is now Master of the Hall."   
  
Their laughter was joined by a high clear voice singing a Gondor march.  
  
"Ah, the King has dismissed him from his service at last. I didn't think he'd live out the month. Now we can start out, and see where this Road will end." Merry stood. "Hullo, Pip!"


	15. Children of Adversity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Toil and Drouble's "Spring" challenge. Prequel hints of "Traditions." And some home truths. And chili beer.

Merry voiced the unthinkable one Ringday, while the three of them sampled the fiery ale specially-brewed for the day (with those scalding Southron _chylle_ fruits). They watched the younger folks around them; Sam's daughters plaiting flower-crowns, gossiping, and simpering at the town's swains, tween Faramir chatting up anything pretty in a frock, and Boro pestering older children to let him play with them. "We must face the dreadful truth, my friends. We have dull children."  
  
"Which is not to say that we don't love them," Pippin added thoughtfully.  
  
"'Course they're dull." Mayor Gardner smiled at the startled looks from his fellow Travellers. "Most Hobbits are dull, when left to their own lives, without wizards or terrible deeds pushing at them. It's those hard things as sharpen a dull blade."  
  
Silence. Merry looked at his right arm. Pippin flexed his hand. Sam rubbed one foot with another, both bearing bald shiny patches where mountain fire had burnt away the hair forever.   
  
Frodo-lad whirled past, a strapping youth with a handsome tawny thatch on each foot, his arms around a giggling Violet Sackville.  
  
Sam lifted his mug of Mountain Fire ale to his heedless eldest son. "May they all die dull Hobbits."


	16. West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White shores are calling.

Gulls cried. A white ship waited at a dock. Frodo looked to the Sea.

"Where are you going, Master?" Sam cried, though he knew the answer.

"With the Elves, Sam."

"And I can't come." Grief rose up in Sam. After all they'd survived together, to be parted this way–

"No. Not for some time, I should think." Frodo's eyes were level and sad. "Do not be too sad, Sam. I go to find peace and healing at last. All that I had is yours; you will be Mayor, and Rose will fill Bag End with children. But your time will come. I do not think we have said goodbye for the last time."

One kiss, and white sails blinded Sam's eyes.

"Sam. Sam."

He smelled ...herbs. Ithilien?

He blinked, and stared up in disbelief at Gandalf. Gandalf was _alive_. He wore white. His face was sad, so sad.

"It has taken many days, Samwise, but the King has called you back from the Shadow."

Sam sat up in the large camp bed to see Strider in the tent as well. The grey eyes of the Man were full of tears.

And Sam knew why he was in this large bed, alone.


End file.
